


Oh What a Beautiful Day

by PrincessaKyla



Series: MidCentury Rustic [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Farm/Ranch, Alternate Universe - Historical, M/M, fall festival, gay farmers in the 1950s, hayrides, pumpkin patch, tw Mention of Homophobia, very mild mention of homophobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-18
Updated: 2020-11-18
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:40:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27618502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrincessaKyla/pseuds/PrincessaKyla
Summary: Tony and Steve open their farm up as a fall festival with treats, hayrides, and a pumpkin patch. Set in 1954.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Series: MidCentury Rustic [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2033530
Comments: 6
Kudos: 45
Collections: Fall 2020 Bringing Food to the Lab Seasonal Bingo





	Oh What a Beautiful Day

**Author's Note:**

> This is absolutely unedited but I was on a real roll writing this this morning. I settled on 1954 because I wanted Tony to be singing Perry Como and I really like "Papa Loves Mambo". It's just a very "singing along to the radio" song for me.
> 
> This fic is a fill for the Fall 2020 Bringing Food to the Lab Seasonal Bingo, fulfilling the square "Hay."
> 
> Quoted songs are "A Bushel and a Peck" from Guys and Dolls, and "Catch a Falling Star" by Perry Como.
> 
> This might cause mild anxiety for some, so an upfront reassurance that they don't get caught.

_ I love you a bushel and a peck, a bushel and a peck and a hug around the neck...you bet your pretty neck I do! _

Steve grunted as he tossed a hay bale into the trailer and looked to the sky. It had been threatening rain the night before, and he had worried it might continue into today, but the morning sun shone brightly in a crisp, clear sky. Assuming it stayed this gorgeous, it was perfect weather for the first day of seasonal business at the farm. With that decided, he got back to loading up the trailer for the hayride.

“Steve!”

The sound of Tony calling him from the house made Steve look up, hay bale in hand. The other man was paused in the kitchen doorway, dish towel in hand, looking very in love. “Telephone for you!” Steve acknowledged him with a nod and tossed the bale into the trailer before heading for the house, pulling his work gloves off as he went.

In the kitchen, breakfast was quietly frying on the stove, and the phone receiver was very carefully sat on the kitchen counter next to it so as not to accidentally fall or hang up. Steve picked it up, careful not to tangle the cord. “Hello?”

“Steve Rogers?”

“That’s me.”

“Hi, this is Maria Hill at the county paper? I’m calling on behalf of our editor, Nick Fury, he was wondering if he could send out a reporter to cover your opening tonight.”

Tony shot him an inquisitive look and Steve shook his head slightly. “Sure, I suppose that’d be fine.Who should we be on the lookout for?”

“One moment…” There was the sound of shuffling papers, and the secretary muttering to herself before she came back. “Apologies. We’ll be sending out Clint Barton.”

“Sounds good. Thanks for the call.”

“You’re welcome, Mr. Rogers. Have a nice opening day.”

Steve hung up and scrubbed a hand down his face. “That was the county paper. They wanna send a reporter out tonight to cover the opening.”

“Oh well that’s great!” Tony enthused. “We’ll be sure to get more business with the paper covering us.”

“I sure hope so,” Steve said. “Otherwise, it’ll be a lean winter. What’s for breakfast?”

“Bacon, eggs, and pancakes, but you better wash up before you sit down at my table.”

With a chuckle, Steve moved to the sink and washed his hands, splashing some extra water on his face before drying on the provided towel and sitting at the table. Tony filled him a plate and sat it in front of him before turning on the radio. A new Perry Como song was playing and Tony, being Tony, sang along.

“Papa loves mambo...Mama loves mambo….”

Steve couldn’t help smile. It was going to be a great day for sure.

Tony spent the day putting the finishing touches on some of the treats they would have available for the evening. More would be coming with the farmhands’ wives in the evening, but he was responsible for the candied apples and the taffies, primarily, and he had several pots of cider cooking on the stove. Of course, he was doing his best to focus on what he was doing and not on his handsome partner, out in the fields making sure everything was ready for the families that would swarm the farm that evening.

When Steve had first suggested opening their farm up to the public, Tony had thought he must have been crazy. Part of the reason they had moved to the farm from the city was so that no one would suspect that they were more than just widowers who had decided to move in together for support in their grief. Heaven forbid any of the conservative neighbors find out that they were switch hitters, or they might end up like any number of horror stories the folks at the bars swapped in hushed, horrified tones. Of course, Steve had soothed his worries and promised things would be carefully structured so that no one had too much access to their personal lives. Besides, he had pointed out, they would be working on different things most of the time people were around anyway. It would be fine.

So here they were, ready for the first annual Stark Farm Pumpkin Patch Festival.

In a few hours, people would hopefully fill the grounds, kids and parents, teenagers out on dates, plenty of chatter and life, almost like being back in the city. Tony was looking forward to it.

Of course, they could have a total failure of an opening. Steve had splurged on an ad in the county paper for a while leading up to opening day, and they’d spread word by mouth during trips into town, but it was hard to tell. The evening would show them if they’d done enough.

Tony’s worry had been for nothing. Almost as soon as Steve had opened up the gate at the head of the drive and made sure the sign was standing tall, people had started to arrive. Kids scrambled out of truck beds almost before their fathers had come to full stops, teenagers piled out of cars borrowed from parents, having crammed as many friends as possible into one vehicle. The pumpkin patch was full of families, kids picking out pumpkins almost as big as they themselves were. Somewhere just over the ridge, the tractor could be heard pulling the trailer for hayrides.

It was magical.

“Hey, Mr. Stark!” a familiar voice said, catching Tony’s attention.

“Well hey, Pete. Can I getcha anything?”

“Is it your homemade cider?”

“It is indeed.”

Pete nodded, considering. “I’ll take two ciders and a candied apple, please?”

“You got it. That’ll be a dollar.” As Pete slipped the bill in the collection jar, Tony carefully dipped him two cups of cider and grabbed him a shiny red candied apple. “Got a date huh?”

Peter blushed. “Thanks Mr. Stark. And yeah. Her name’s Michelle.”

Tony grinned. “Oooh, Michelle. Have fun. And Pete? Take her on the hayride. Great excuse to sit a little closer.” He chuckled as Pete hurried back off to his gal, and busied himself with seeing to others who stopped by the little concession stand Steve had built for him. He could just see their little photo spot from the stand, and in slow moments, he stopped to watch the families and young people arrange themselves on the hay bales, smiling brightly as the photographer snapped a picture. That was clearly shaping up to be a good idea.

It was hard to keep track of how many people Tony served that evening, handing out ciders and hot dogs and candied apples until he was starting to mark things off the menu, one by one. He took a short break when one of the ladies urged him to, dashing into the house for a moment of quiet. Steve snuck in after him, smiling broadly. Hay clung to his shirt sleeves from helping people in and out of the trailer, and somehow he’d managed to get a few pieces in his hair. 

“I’d call this a success,” Steve murmured, wrapping his arms around Tony from behind and nosing at the pulse point under his jaw. “Several people have said they can’t wait to come back later this month, and again next year.”

Tony hummed, closing his eyes and leaning back into Steve’s embrace. “We’ve definitely turned a decent profit. And these are just the locals. Once this hits the county paper, who knows?”

Steve nodded. “Maybe we should organize a haunted hayride for closer to Halloween, give the teens a better alternative than mischief.”

“I like it,” Tony agreed. “I can maybe set up some puppets, make ‘em triggered by the trailer driving over a mechanism so we don’t need as many people out there all night.”

“Good idea. Saw you’re almost out of concessions.”

Tony nodded. “I’ll make more for next week.”

“Smart man.”

“‘S why you love me, so.”

Chuckling, Steve kissed his cheek and then slipped back out to give the last few rides of the night. Tony took a moment more to revel in the quiet of the house, and then slipped back out to help close up the concession stand. It was quieter outside now, most people having come and gone by then, but still a fair number, most waiting for older children picking pumpkins, or friends taking a turn on the hayride. Slowly, those last few trickled out, leaving little more than some food trash and tire tracks in the makeshift parking lot. Steve closed the gate after the last truck pulled out, a truck bed of worn out little ones giggling and enjoying their new pumpkins silhouetted against the rising moon. Sitting on a hay bale, Tony looked to the stars, smiling. Life was pretty magical tonight.

_ Catch a falling star and put it in your pocket, save it for a rainy day...for love may come and tap you on the shoulder some starless night, and just in case you feel you wanna hold her, you’ll have a pocket full of starlight… _


End file.
